What fate denied me
by iris0011
Summary: A new order. A new threat. But old friendships are still strong.
1. Chapter 1

**What fate denied me**

_**Setting:** Quite a few decades after Galbatorix's defeat. _

_**Story: **A new order. A new threat. But old friendships are still strong. _

_**Characters:** Eragon, Saphira, Murtagh, Thorn, Arya... and more._

_**Pairing:** Eragon/Arya_

_**Note:** English is not my native. First work for this fandom. _

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, nor it's universe or characters. It all belongs to Christopher Paolini. May his pen stay sharp!_

Prologue

The open sea. Seemingly endless plain of shining water bellow, with depth of dark mysteries. Lots of minstrels have sung of it's greatness and beauty, but for the weary travelers riding a termite above, it has long lost it's charm. All they longed for was a glimpse of solid ground.

It was lucky the weather held and they had had tail wind, other wise Thorn would have long ago depleted all his energy. He was terribly spent as it is, even though Murtagh kept pouring energy into him from time to time.

_You don't have to do that. I'm fine. _the red dragon assured him through their mental connection.

_Yeah. And it's probably futile to remind you how useless your lying to me is... _

Thorn snorted and Murtagh had to close his eyes briefly as their momentum carried him through the resulting smoke-ring. Even though the feeling was unpleasant, scratching the inside of his throat he couldn't help an involuntary grin spread across his face. There was nothing like being bonded with a dragon after all...

_I'm sure it can't be that much far away. _Thorn continued their mental exchange.

Murtagh frowned. He didn't wholly share the dragon's optimism. They've been flying for three days now, with no sight of any land, not even a morsel of an island.

_At least you should stop and rest a little. _he proposed.

_I'd rather cover more distance in daylight. We could miss a smaller island in the dark._

_Well, it's not a small island we're looking for now, is it?_

Both of them became quiet after this. Frustration welled up inside Murtagh. When the two of them had gone into hiding after Galbatorix's death, they had wowed to themselves to never again let anything direct them from the outside ever again. They would be their own masters, and not puppets of another, be it person, circumstance, cause, destiny or emotion.

Yet here they were.

Right in the thick of it.

They only landed when the sun was already low on the horizon, painting water and sky crimson alike. Cool droplets of water sprayed them as Thorn's muscular hind legs scraped the surface of the water. The red dragon was panting, and as soon as he touched down, all energy seemed to leave his limbs, and his large wings spread out on top of the waves, floating next to him.

'Whoa!' Murtagh cried out, as a larger wave got them from the side, unbalancing the completely spent dragon. One of his wings became submerged partly.

_Help me..._

Murtagh was already loosening the straps holding his legs to the saddle.

_Hold on! I'm on it..._

_Just don't let the Hatchling fall down. It wouldn't do to drown him, not after all we've..._

_All right, all right!_

So, before jumping down into the water, Murtagh secured the straps back, so that they would hold their sleeping little charge safely in place. Then he jumped. Despite being cold, the water seemed to burn his skin at first, and he had difficulty kicking out, due to his muscles being stiff and sore from all the riding. He submerged completely. He came up for air, and swam to the side of Thorn's right wing and began to help folding it. It wasn't an easy task. He contemplated using magic, but in the end it was done without it. He just needed to shake the water off the leathery membranes, so that it's weight wouldn't pull Thorn down, and the dragon could do the rest.

When the left wing too was safely tucked in next to Thorn's body, Murtagh remained in the water for a little while more, swimming around. The exercise felt nice. He could feel his muscles unknoting and warming up one by one. Then he went back to his partner, and reaching out for the magic, he uttered a few well chosen words in the ancient language. The drain in his energy was noticeable, but nothing he couldn't sustain.

_Drink. We both need it._

Thorn gave a grateful grunt, as he began laping up the water before him, which was free of salt, thanks to the magic. Murtagh also filled a flask. After drinking their share, and filling the flask once again he released his hold on he magic. Thorn turned his head to face him, and fixed his emerald stare at him.

_I could catch us something to eat too later, only I don't think you could hold the Hatchling up by yourself. _

Murtagh could feel more longing behind Thor's thoughts than he was letting on. Swimming through the water chasing prey must have appealed to him greatly at the moment.

_I could. But there is also the luggage. Let's not try it, not before it comes to either that or death by starving. Either way, only you would fancy raw fish. _

Murtagh could feel a hint of amusement from Thorn which contented him, because it showed that his partner was starting to recover from the fatigue of the journey of the day. Thorn had a cheery, optimistic disposition which more often than not made him see more the humorous, and not the thorny side of Murtagh's ever present sarcasm.

Murtagh climbed back to the saddle, and started shaking the little bundle in it.

'Hey!'

It suddenly occurred to him, that he was probably being more rough than was appropriate. He stilled his hands, and tried again, more gently this time.

'Hey. I brought water.'

Two eyes blinked open. They focused slowly, then locked on their target and stayed there without moving. Large, shining, unwavering blue eyes. Murtagh should have been used to it by then, being gazed at thus, but he still couldn't escape the uncomfortable feeling he always encountered when dealing with the elven boy. He almost wished he hadn't woken him. After a long-seeming time, the boy finally looked away. He reached out, and took the flask wordlessly. He drank.

'Eka elrun ono.'

Thank you.

The boy looked around.

'How far is it still?' he asked, switching to the tongue of men with a bit of an accent.

'...wish I knew.' Murtagh relied bitterly.

Thorn rested through half the night, being cradled by the waves, while Murtagh kept watch. There were creatures in the sea even a dragon should be to be wary of... Then they resumed their journey, heading ever westward.

Murtagh couldn't help looking forward to daylight, with a strong hope of finally seeing their destination. But when the darkness began to retreat, the first rays of the sun illuminated only seemingly endless row of sea-waves bellow. Despair filled him. He barred his teeth, and a guttural roar of frustration escaped him.

_Blast it, you idiot! Just how much further are you? Eragon!_

_**Author's Note**: Reviews are much appreciated._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1.

They needed to stop twice that day for Thorn to be able to keep flying. But still, no sight of land could be seen. The elven boy was not a chatty partner, he kept mostly to himself, so him being awake of asleep mattered little. It had surprised Murtagh in the beginning to see him sleep at all, as according to his knowledge of their race, elves didn't sleep. Well, maybe their young ones did.

It was mid afternoon, when the elven boy was suddenly getting restless somehow, marking him unmistakably awake this time. He was leaning in all directions, as if looking for something, and he was muttering to himself in the ancient language, though too low for Murtagh to hear amidst the wind.

'What is it? You're squirming like a little rat, you know.' he couldn't help asking the boy irritably after a while. The little elfling turned his head around to send him, what Murtagh though was a reproaching stare.

'Can't you feel it?'

'Feel what?'

'I don't know exactly. But there is magic around.'

Murtagh couldn't help feeling puzzled. They were out in the middle of nowhere for crying out loud!

'Magic? Where?'

The boy shrugged.

'Around.'

_Now that's helpful! _he fumed inside.

Thorn's sudden upsurge of excitement managed to clear away his anger.

_I guess the Hatchling is right! Something does feel different. Can't you hear the sound of the waves? It's like they've became muted somehow. And there are smells. New smells. _

Murtagh leaned forward in the saddle. His eyes narrowed. He could still see only water. But the other two were right. There was something... He berated himself for not noticing it before. He must have grown lax, sitting in the saddle too long. The change was subtle, but definitely there. He let his mind expand, searching with his mental senses. In the waves bellow, he could feel the alien minds of the creatures living there. He searched further and further... until he came across something different. After a while, there were creatures, who's minds were different. Their minds were filled with the love of light and sounds, and not that of darkness and silence. He cried out in surprise and relief.

_There must be..._

_...land!_

_Exactly... About time too. What could this be? A visual illusion? _

_Probably. Or it can be... _

_...more. We must be..._

_...careful. If this really it the place, there can be wards too. _

_No matter. We'll deal with them. We should try to land._

_That's exactly what I had in mind. Hold on!_

Thorn began to descend. Murtagh fumbled with the saddlebags, and extracted his sword, which he fastened to his hip cautiously to avoid hitting the boy sitting before him. The boy started to sing in the ancient language. He sang of earth and plants, and the love of all growing things, and everything's proper place in the universe. It wasn't a spell, strictly speaking, but then again, Murtagh never had had the chance to familiarize himself with the workings of the elf's special magical singing. Maybe the singing helped, maybe it didn't but as they descended, they suddenly encountered a gust of warm wind, which Murtagh was pretty sure marked the boundary of the magic, and were able to pass it unharmed.

All three of them cried out. Murtagh triumphant, Thorn with relief, and the boy with joy. It was indeed land. It was even more large than Murtagh had expected. Now that he was actually seeing it, he almost had trouble believing, that he had failed to notice it a moment before. No matter his deep familiarity with magic, it was still a disturbing thought that there was a power here to wholly hide something this enormous.

On the island below, there were hills almost as large as the Spine. There were rivers, swift running, deep and wide and lakes. There were plains, and forests and as Murtagh looked more, he began doubting that what he was looking at, was an island at all. Maybe it had a connection to some foreign new, mainland further down west...

_Where to?_

_I don't care. We'll just land where-ever. I must rest a little, before we start looking for Dras Solus. _

_Agreed. _

As they slowly descended Murtagh amused himself with mentally abusing his half brother, as was his custom.

_...giving his city such a button-down, fanciless name. The "City of Sun", really. Well nobody would ever have thought of that! I bet he's grown nice and fat sitting around here leisurely, while we kept risking our necks back in Alagaësia! Were always favored by fate before all else, he was... _

_I'm sure he will be glad to see you too. _Thorn commented, sounding amused.

But Murtagh just turned more sombre.

_Yeah. At least until he hears our news. _

Thorn was quiet for a few heartbeats, then:

_I'm sorry. I know this is not the family reunion you would wish for._

_That it isn't. _

They landed in a clearing on the banks of a stream. The vegetation and wild life of the surrounding forest was alien to them, but none of it were giving off any particularly unfriendly vibes. The little intimidating feeling they got was merely the result of the place's unfamiliarity and not it's malice. Thorn was softly humming with pleasure. His tired body was glad for the rest, and the feel of solid earth under his talons. The weather was nicely warm, and he was looking forward to a nice sleep. He was listening to the unknown voices and sniffing the new scents with joy and contentment in his heart.

_I was thinking before, that your half-brother must be mad, having moved this far. But this seems a nice place. Nice for dragons. I can feel it in my bones. It's so large! Look at those trees! They look ancient and strong. I could easily fly beneath their branches. Even breathing feels easier here. And the sun. It's like it's closer somehow. More warm. _

Murtagh nodded, acknowledging him.

'Let's make a camp!' he said aloud, for the boy's benefit, who was just descending from Thorn's back. 'You can gather some firewood while I unsaddle Thorn. He needs a proper rest. And tomorrow... we'll ferret out that no good brother of mine from his hiding-place!'

Murtagh had never meant to fall asleep. Maybe he had been more tired, than he realized. Fortunately, he had always been a shallow sleeper, since from the days of his tender youth, he had seldom had the luxury of sleeping in total security.

He woke up with a start, his right hand moving to his sword's handle automatically. The darkness all around seemed peaceful. Yet, he could feel something to be off. He sent a mental probe, waking Thorn. The dragon groaned in his sleep.

_Keep it down. I think we're being watched. _

That managed to wake the dragon up. Thorn lifted his head, and stood up, peering into the darkness wearily. Murtagh went a little further from him, straining his eyes, as well as his other senses, tense, ready to jump at a moment's notice.

_It's so dark. Can you feel anything?_

_More importantly: the Hatchling is missing._

Murtagh cursed.

_No wonder. I'm no nanny, damn it!_

_Still, we're responsible for the boy._

_I know. Where could he have gone? I don't..._

Suddenly, a roar split the quiet of the night. A shadow, blacker than even then blackness of the night fell on them... Thorn turned, but he was too late. Murtagh could feel his panic as the dragon found himself being pinned to the ground by a weight at least equal to his own. Other roars answered the first, echoing in the distance.

'Thorn!' Murtagh cried, and started to run back. A gleam caught his eye from the right, and he just had time to lift his sword, and parry. Steel clashed with steel. A figure, humanoid in shape stood before him, holding a sword. He couldn't see the attacker's face clearly, but some moonlight reflected from his or her teeth, as the unknown creature grinned.

At that moment a fierce and heavy mental attack began hammering at his consciousness. It didn't come from the attacker before him, but from somewhere behind, and by the feel of it, it wasn't just one consciousness but many... Murtagh tried to withstand their attack at first, but realized early on that his efforts were futile. The combined might of the attackers were that much stronger than him. They weighted him down, as a torrent of wind would a blade of grass. The only thing he could do was to retreat, to the very core of his being, keeping himself safe there. But that of course left his physical body completely at the mercy of his attacker.

_Eka aí fricai un Shur'tugal! Eka aí Murtagh, bern abr Eragon. _he thought quickly, hoping it would be enough.

The mental onslaught stopped it's progress, but didn't release him. In the back corners of his mind, he could feel Thorn similarly engaged. From the turmoil of many consciousness invading them, a deep and calm one came forth, forming words of speech for them to understand.

_Greetings. _it's deep mental voice said in the ancient language._ The names of Murtagh and Thorn are well know to us. However... we were not expecting visitors. I'm sure you'll understand, that we can't take any chances. You must prove your identities. A test is in order._

_You are already inside our minds. What more prof do you need? _Murtagh answered, more angrily than he knew was wise. He didn't take it lightly, his inner sanctuary being breached thus lightly.

The mental voice didn't answer, only said, with a warning edge:

_Defend yourselfs best you can._

The mental onslaught suddenly drew back. The moment it was gone, the figure before Murtagh raised it's sword in a salute, and began attacking again. Realizing, that this was probably going to be the aforementioned test, Murtagh threw himself into the heat of the battle.

His opponent was good, that much was obvious from the very first clash. Murtagh deliberately went lighter on the attack side at first, to better size up his abilities. When he started to initiate attacks too, their clashes slowly became more balanced, more even. It frustrated him, that he could not best his opponent, even though he must be, according to any rational count, the other's elder.

Meanwhile, Thorn and the dragon, who had attacked him before, were making havoc in the forest. Their talons were uprooting trees, and stamping down boulders of rocks, while their fight continued. Thorn managed to sink his teeth in the other's side, and free himself momentary. He made for the sky immediately. He gave a roar of surprise having just spotted the many other dragons perched on branches of the surrounding trees. No tree of Alagaësia would have survived a similar feat. As Thorn drew near the dragons snapped their jaws at him. The meaning was clear: they wouldn't let him leave the shadows of the trees. So he was forced to head down again. Flying in the confined space below didn't agree well with him, but he held on fine, keeping his own against the one dragon who was his opponent, and who was currently on him again, breathing a bright jet of blue fire.

Though Murtagh had little room left to think between furious blows and skillful parrys, he still noticed how the light from the fire failed to illuminate his opponent's face. Doubt settled on him, but he attacked all the more fiercely because of it. As their fighting settled into a pattern, it became a dance of shining steel and flexing muscle. He was soon panting, with seat-drops pouring down his brow, but the feeling of the exercise was not unwelcome. He even found himself enjoying it. The whole experience kindled something deep inside him, like remembering a long forgotten dream. And finally embracing the familiarity of it all, recognition came...

'I'm just glad you didn't become a fat scholar in our years apart after all...' he grunted.

'Neither have you, contrary to what you said in Farthen Dur!' the other laughed easily.

'What have you done with Brisingr? Collecting dust in some store cupboard, or what?' Murtagh asked, pointing to his opponent's unfamiliar blade.

The other laughed. He stepped back a little, and suddenly the sword he was holding burst into flames.

'You'd better take a closer look, brother.'

'Eragon...'

Murtagh suddenly realized, that his throat was tight. He had never expected this strong a reaction of himself. He hated himself for it. After all these years, he was still not free of the hurt after all. Eragon stepped forward, the shadow previously hiding him, and his weapon's true form having cleared.

'Murtagh.' he greeted.

Murtagh cleared the sweat from his brow with a quick wipe of the back of his hand. He looked at his half-bother, who just stood there, waiting for him. He would have seemed more like an apparition instead of real, but he too was breathing hard, the knowledge of which satisfied Murtagh. In appearance, Eragon seemed the same as ever, strikingly so. Just the way Murtagh remembered him, from the very day they had parted. There was not an addiction of new line on his face. He didn't seem older, not with a day. Only his eyes. Only those held some prof of the intervening decades. They had more depth to them, the depth of wisdom only age and experience could bring. He even smiled the same way he used to, a little timidly, an inheritance from his early days as a simple farm boy. Eragon slowly extended his hand for Murtagh. Maybe he was expecting a brotherly embrace. At least Murtagh could disappoint him in that. He turned around, frowning.

'You haven't changed at all.' he noted.

'But you did.' Eragon answered. 'Can I see?' he asked pointing somewhere in the dark.

Before Murtagh could reply, or understand his meaning, Eragon uttered a few words in the ancient language, and suddenly Murtagh's sword disappeared from his grip. He turned around sharply, with shock and rage being mirrored in his features.

His weapon was now in his brother's left hand, who was holding it up, and examining the handle.

'You've changed the guard... and the shape of the grip... No wonder. You rarely fight with both hands. The length and width of the blade remained the same...but here are some new markings. I would need more light to make them out. I take it you gave it a new name?'

Murtagh swallowed, which was all the more hard for him to do, because he had to swallow part of his pride with that one motion. But this was his brother's playground, maybe he could bare letting him get away with it just this once. Maybe stealing his sword was Eragon's way of taking petty revenge for what had happened between them on the Burning Plains. It was all right to humor him with that, really.

'I realized at some point how unwise it would be holding on to "_Misery_" for forever.'

'I agree.'

'I named it _Ferraná _instead. It means...'

'...what you prize above all else: freedom.' Eragon finished for him, and handed the sword back to him with a wry smile. 'Good for you.'

Murtagh frowned. Eragont turned to the side.

'And welcome to you too, Thorn!' he greeted the red dragon, who was now walking slowly towards them, with Saphira close behind. Of course, it had been the blue dragon testing Thorn, just as Eragon had Murtagh.

'Your journey must have been tiring. I apologize for putting you through such a test right after it. But of course, it was necessary. Umaroth-elda was all for making you go through the usual procedure, which would have taken weeks, but I've convinced him in the end that this would suffice.'

While Thorn greeted Eragon back (all too respectfully in Murtagh's opinion), and Murtagh and Saphira also acknowledged each other, he was vaguely wandering if his brother was making fun of them. Yet, the thought somehow failed to piss him off. He had enjoyed their fight, and valued the knowledge he had gained from it.

He found that Eragon was looking at him again, and the words were out of his mouth before he could think better about them:

'I've missed you... that is... our sparring.'

Eragon grinned, and this time, he didn't wait for him, or extend a hand, he just went and embraced him himself. It didn't feel that bad either...

But that was when Murtagh suddenly recalled the circumstances leading to his visit, and pushed his brother back.

'Eragon... You must know...' he began hastily.

But Eragon shook his head, a sad little smile appearing in the corner of his mouth.

'Not now... not yet. Please. I know I have but this one moment...'

Murtagh looked at him more closely. It wasn't completely true after all, that nothing's changed in his brother. And looking at him now, Murtagh had to admit, that fate favoring him before all else wasn't completely true, either.

_**Author's Note:** I tried to keep to canon with the ancient language, I'm sorry if I failed somewhere, and please correct me, if you know better. I invented only two new words, if they already exist in canon, do tell me, and I'll replace them. _

_bren – for "brother"_

_Ferraná – for "freedom"_

_Review please! _


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